Natural Enemies
by MidnightHeir
Summary: Another night out, another chance to kick Limburger's butt. And then nature gets in the way. One shot R
1. Default Chapter

**_Disclaimer - _**I do not own the BMFM, I think some guy called Bob Forward does. Also I haven't seen the show in almost 10 years, so character nuances are liable to 'out'. Reviews and constructive criticism are both requested and encouraged.

**__**

**_Natural Enemies_**

There was a moment when it looked like everything would be fine. Vinnie planted his foot firmly onto the icy tarmac and twisted his bike and his body round in a tight 180. But the ground was frosty, and the road was slick, the back wheel of his bike couldn't gain the friction necessary to stop the vehicle and rider from careering onwards towards the lip of the dock. Countless repeats of flipping up and down the switches on the handlebars in an attempt to stop the two from hitting the water were fruitless as rider and bike slipped over the edge of the wooden supports and metal lip to crash into the icy waters below.

What took only seconds to accomplish stretched an eternity as the young mouse did everything in his power to try and save his beloved bike. When the boosters failed he moved to release the ropes and chains necessary to hook onto the supports that rapidly passed him by. And with each attempt to do so Vinnie became painfully more and more aware of the fact that his bike, his baby was failing him. Wide eyes looked up towards the quickly vanishing lip of the dock as he sought another way to save his bike. "C'mon ..." he whispered time and again, desperately not wanting to leave the security that his bike would afford him once he hit the water. Vinnie didn't want to admit to it now, but he was getting scared. He couldn't hear his bros through the comms in his helmet, he couldn't hear a thing except the icy night air which tore over his fur dragging each strand upwards, even as he opened his visor to let out a final desperate call for help he couldn't have imagined how visciously cold, or harsh the water would be as the machine and mouse were swallowed by its tempestuous depths.

Activity on the docks was not unusual for this time of year. The nights were longer and significantly colder, stock was shifted from one warehouse to another in a bid to be ready for the Christmas rush that would begin in a few weeks time. But it seemed even the extra security couldn't prevent the appearance and activity of Limburger and his goons. Their activity succeeded in making the 9 o'clock news, and, as planned brought out some mice to play. It had been a rather odd battle, with the goons retreating far quicker than they normally did, and not in the same random, desperate order the normally did. Instead they made for an exit near the dock, each vehicle running one at a time along the river front and to the relative safety of Limburger Towers. Naturally this odd behaviour was expected to gain a pursuit, and naturally with the opportunity to kick ass and impress Charley-girl Vinnie took up the challenge.

What neither rider nor bike had known was this. For once Lawrence had been successful in his plans, though he did not succeed in getting all three mice. Karbunkle's latest device had been far simpler than any of his other hare-brained ideas, so simple in fact its very construction had escaped the Plutarkian's notion of a good idea until now. "What is this?" he had asked at the time, admiring a painfully small sleek silver device. "Why ... my most brilliant block of brie it is an electronics disrupter." Karbunkle had replied with a cackle of glee. "And what will that do?" Lawrence had asked, "Cause the bikes of those mice to suffer a horrible malfunction ..." This pleased both men greatly, and the devices debut had occurred within a matter of days.

The initial pain of hitting the water was surpassed surprisingly quickly by the panic and cold realisation that flooded the young mouse's mind almost as quickly as the water flooded his now open helmet. He couldn't swim... to his knowledge no Martian could. Choking beneath the surface, Vinnie found himself fighting to break free from the clawing strands of icy water that tugged at his cooling body, pushing and pulling his limbs to and fro from the metallic burden that was now dragging him down to a slow, solitary death.

Neither Throttle, Modo nor Charley had expected to be doing this. Standing at the waters edge waiting with diminishing patience for Vincent to break the surface of the water. For him to somehow let them know that he was alright. "Where is he?" Charley whispered quietly her eyes scanning the inky surface with a growing sense of desperation.

"I don't know Charley-girl, I really don't know." Throttle replied softly, fighting to reign in his own growing sense of panic at the unfolding situation.

Panic had descended the other three by now though none of them openly showed it. Modo had descended into a stoic silence, his growing concern worn on his sleeve as his eyes sought for some sign of Vincent. Throttle on the other hand kept an arm around Charley, burying his concern beneath a veil of active well thought out options to combat the growing number of failed attempts at contact with the young mouse. It had been almost five minutes now, with no contact from the young mouse. To the steadily infrequent calls to the dark night, or the comms.

"There!" Charley pointed to the shining bit of metal that broke the surface. It toyed and danced on the surface of the river before the current began to drag it down stream. _He's coming up ... Vinnie's coming up. _Rubbing her hands together to preserve what little warmth was left there, Charley was unable to keep the look of relief from her face.

On the edge of the dock three sets of eyes waited expectantly for the young mouse to follow.

The currents of the river that tugged at his panicking, trapped form weren't bothering Vincent so much now. His bike lay across his left leg; the buoyancy of the water stopped it from crushing the limb, but along with the silt held him firmly in place. The powerful current wrapped itself around his flaying body and rocked him to and fro ever so gently; the pressure the water applied to his helmet caused it to bite into his throat, leaving a thick red line that grew a dirty grey with the silt that mixed into it. Despite the freezing waters he lay trapped in, a warm calm began to descend over his body; his limbs were growing lighter whilst his eyes grew heavier. The murky dark waters soothing him into a sleep that few ever woke from. Floating backwards from the his bike, and the desperate fight he had waged with it to get free, Vinnie drifted off to sleep, what little air he had left in his lungs being released with the eerily smooth dropping of his jaw. At mercy to the currents the open, damaged helmet broke free, kicked and played with happily by the water as it rose to the surface.

"Where is he?" Charley repeated the question again, this time her fears for the worst clearly on display. The relief that had lit up her eyes only seconds earlier had transformed itself into cold hard fear. "Where is he?!"

"Down there!" Throttle replied quietly, his own panic and concern now slowly creeping to the surface. "Somewhere down there."

"I'm going down ..."

"Charley girl!" Throttle was horrified at the very notion.

"Someone has to!"

"Charley-ma'am" Modo broke his silence to hand to her the rope from the back of Lil'Ho. "We don't want to lose you down there."

Charley had partially expected Modo to back Throttle up on this one, it was cold, it was late and it was pitch black down there. By some fluke of Limburger's their bikes had malfunctioned as they had arrived at the edge of the dock leaving all weapons and boosters off line. The two mice were stronger, and would most definitely be warmer down there than she would be, and yet they were allowing her to do this. Smiling gratefully at Modo for ending the argument she wrapped the rope around her middle "When I tug on it twice, pull me up" she instructed softly fastening it to the hoops in her jeans before diving off the end of the pier. The water was horrifically cold, even before she had fully immersed herself in it Charley had the distinct feeling that it was a bad idea. Fighting against the currents she was relieved to feel her line hold her steady as two sets of hands kept a firm grasp of it. The icy finger tips of the water drove into her eyes again and again, the element determined to keep a hold of the victim it had grasped that evening. Striking out Charley searched desperately, her denim shirt and jeans weighing her down as she did so.

Now that he no longer fought against the river Vincent's form was a joy to play with. The water took great pride in tugging at the bandanna that he wore around his neck, letting the edges of the sodden material rip upwards and over his face. During one of its ritual flights of fancy the edge of the material flicked the loosened metal attached to the side of the mouse's face. Finding purchase beneath the metal the water continued to tug at it fervently, until with a satisfying, yet muffled **popping **sound it tore the metal away. Carrying it along in the riptide it struck another late night swimmer during her active search.

With the added velocity afforded it by the tide Vinnie's metal mask struck Charley visciously in her arm. Treading water beneath the surface her sore eyes turned sharply to see if she could see what she hoped and prayed to find. "No ..." it escaped her lips, before she had a chance to stop the word from forming. Coughing and choking she broke the surface of the water to get a second breath of air. Biting back the need to cry she disappeared beneath the surface once again, determined to free the floating, ghost-like form that she had seen writhing limply in the water. ..._Vinnie ... _Beneath the surface once again she swam to his side, her hands feeling along the smooth curves of the bike and mouse. Hands that found the slick torso of the mouse quickly reached upwards following the contours of a horribly lifeless form until they found his bobbing head, Charley's left hand cupped the back of his slack skull whilst her right hand pinched his nose. Bringing her face up to cover his open mouth she forced as much air as she felt she could allow into his body. Pushing off his bike she twisted her body around his so that she floated behind it, her arms wrapping firmly about his chest she kicked backwards with defiant desperation. Feeling the bike shift slightly under her force, she bent forwards at her knees and pushed again...

As she had searched the two mice had threaded Charley more and more rope, when they had seen her break the surface both had felt a tiny pit of despair open up, but when she did not call to be reeled in they said nothing and allowed her the luxury to search some more. The first time they felt a tug on the rope the two looked at each other expectantly, after a pause of almost 15 seconds a second tug came. At that command the two began to pull backwards, bringing Charley and her quarry with her.

"Help!" her call was hoarse and desperate in the same instance. Bringing Vinnie to the surface meant that she could now see how pale and lifeless he truly looked. Without the exuberant machismo Vincent looked lost, defenceless, and almost childlike with his head lying against Charley's chest. Closing her eyes to keep tears at bay Charley began CPR the moment she landed on shore.

_...C'mon Vinnie...Breathe ... _She repeated the procedure of two breathes to fifteen compressions time and again. _...Please breathe..._

----


	2. Samson

**_Samson _**

**Disclaimer –** I don't own the BMFM (obviously) and I haven't seen the show in ten years, so character nuances are liable to out. Having said that I will put my hand up right now and say I think Throttle is definitely OOC towards the end of the flashback.

**A.N ;** Italics - Flashback please let me know if it works …

--

It had been two weeks, and being in the garage without Vinnie around was daunting. Everywhere she looked Charley could see all sorts of items that reminded her of his vitality and life. Sure he had annoyed her about as much as he had amused her but she couldn't help but miss the young mouse. Lying on a tarpaulin were parts of his bike engine, the precious AI removed and in the care of Throttle and Modo. Even when she closed her eyes she could feel him, his unmistakable scent hanging in the air like the first frost of winter. Dressed in blue jeans, a thick black sweater and with a scarf to stave off the chill that had succeeded in getting into her bones that fateful night she still shivered involuntarily. No one, especially someone who couldn't swim, deserved the slow death that drowning could bring. Wandering into the empty, quiet kitchen she opened the door to her large 1950's fridge only to have the stark plastic Tupperwares stare hollowly back at her. Sighing she ran her hand through her considerably shorter brown hair. Even cutting off most of it had not succeeded in removing the sickly stench, and horrible visions that night by the river had brought. With a degree of detachment she pulled open the largest plastic carton removing the beige bread buns and their now cold, gelatinous filling. Wrapping up the chilli dogs she packed them into her black leather holdall and left the garage.

The journey to Quigley's Field was painful and slow. Ever since that night the guys had changed, and without Vincent around to lift their respective mood or joke about his fantastic last minute daredevil escape … A tidal wave of emotion ran through her to match the rising bile in her throat. She paused, closing her eyes at the thought of facing them all, a hand at her mouth. Shuddering at what it was she had to face, she continued towards the football field. The chill in the air laughing at her as it sliced through the thick protective layers of cloth she had clawed on in an attempt to escape it.

"Charley-girl …" Throttle greeted her upon her arrival; his soft voice unable to hide the exhaustion and worry that had consumed him over the past few days. At his feet lay the Artificial Intelligence from Vinnie's bike, the stench of sludge from the river hanging in the air as he cleaned it up. On the small wooden table to his right stood a tin pot the contents of which had once been pure, clean water but now resembled an inky, filthy soup that reflected the darkness and lack of hope that had settled down upon the survivors. "I've been cleaning her up." He whispered, glancing back to Charley with a small, tired smile.

Charley returned his tired smile, "I've brought lunch …" looking up she noted the calm that hung over the stadium. Her brow knotted as she attempted to reconcile the problem. "Where's Modo?"

Guilt washed over as she asked his Bro, how could she have not noted the absence of the large grey mouse? Fear ran through her as head turned frantically in a thousand different directions. The group was vulnerable enough as it was at the moment, gripping the plastic Tupperware tightly in her gloved hands she only started to calm at the sight of Lil Ho. Her relief was short lived; looking at the bike only reminded her of the night in question. Across her beautiful midnight black bodywork were thick, ugly lightning strikes of mud. The usually shining alloys were coated in tentacles of slime, plastic bags and strands of algae. To her right stood the remains of what had once been a beautiful red motorcycle. Without the engine or AI, the scratched, grime coated body lay forlornly on the muted grey of the concrete floor, the metallic skeleton of the beast standing proudly, yet grotesquely at its side The once ruby red, elegant beauty a poor shadow of its former self. It merely existed, fighting on another day, just like its rider.

"Charley?" Blinking she turned to look at Throttle, the concern the mouse had for her not lost.

Smiling weakly she handed the plastic container to him, "I didn't hear you."

"I said, Modo is inside, "his hidden eyes flickering to the partially destroyed ship that took up much of the floor space, "With Vincent."

"Oh …" Smiling at her own foolish fears she shook her head, "I can …" her voice trailed off, whilst her fingers wandered aimlessly through the air and towards the open ship door.

**_POP _**The sound of the lid lifting from the airtight container resonated through the horribly quiet area, echoing onwards and losing its battle with its environment. Jumping at the sound both smiled inwardly. What they thought but never said was true, Vincent was the life and soul of the party, and without his presence the world was a quieter, scarier place. "Hmm…" Fingering one of the bread rolls the mouse smiled, "Yea, I'm sure he would appreciate it."

--

Two weeks. During one of his less feverish moments Vincent had picked up on that fact. Now his temperature ran considerably lower, and his breathing was becoming easier and easier with each passing day. Everyday without fail Modo would come in armed with stories and medicine. The large grey mouse's dedication was beyond admirable, and some small part of the boy's mind knew this to be the case. But nothing that he could say or do could change the facts. His scream had echoed through the disturbingly quiet vicinity three days earlier. It had terrified his Bro's, though whether it had been the sight of seeing their lively, usually hyper, happy friend on the floor in agony, or because of what they saw when he looked at them for desperate reassurance he couldn't tell. He was still bitter about the fact they had resorted to sedating him when they had fought for control of his hands.

--

"Out." His voice was painfully deflated, a bitterness that was uncharacteristic for him present in his eyes and demeanour. When Charley didn't move he repeated his request with more force, his voice cracking between the syllables, "GET OUT." Closing his eyes in order to shut out her shocked expression, and predictably wide eyes staring at him he turned his head away from the harsh, metallic light that shone down onto his face. It didn't matter though, even now, with his face pressed down into soft pillow that supported his head he could feel it. The dry, naked, taut flesh that stretched over the side of his skull, extending down to his cheek bone and across his right eyebrow. Fresh, deep and revoltingly hideous scratch marks extended down over his silky, virginal white fur, they all started from different points upon his skull. The worst started at the crown of his head and extended up and over his cranium, even his ear had been torn during the fight for control, leaving an ugly red-black line in his now healing right lobe.

--

_Recovering had been Hell for the young mouse. With so much nervous energy, and a rabid dislike for hospitals treating him had been horrible. As soon as Vinnie had discovered he could get even a little way from his confined quarters he had done so. And so there had been something mildly amusing about stumbling half cock towards the bathroom. But he had needed a leak, and despite his weak legs, had made the journey successfully. So his Bro's could put that in their pipes and smoke it! Shaking with the cold that had claimed his body that night, he hadn't noticed how light his head had felt until he had turned to wash his hands. Man, he had been good, not many mice survived a night in the drink. Humming quietly to himself, force of habit caused him to glance up into the mirror. At first he thought he was hallucinating again, he had had many bad nights when he had first returned home when he had seen things. _

_But there was something about the expanse of greyish pink tissue that struck a chord deep within his soul. The pock marks that ran along his cheekbone up towards the bridge of his nose and the yellowed, cracked flesh that culminated there. Thousands of tiny blue and purple lines that ran along the inner ridge of his eye socket; he knew they were tendons and nerve endings. The white fur that ran so innocently up towards his nose, and down over his forehead before it thinned out to reveal... Throughout every fibre of his being a horrible icy chill ran, there was something missing, and as the cold settled into the pit of his stomach his breathing had increased. Time had slowed whilst with a shaking hand he brought up his fingers to trace along the side of his exposed face. The naked fear that set his eyes alight was temporarily hidden behind eyes that snapped shut to block out the image that hung before him. The yellow, cracked flesh had come away on his fingertips, the bumps of tendons and exposed muscles causing him to flinch as he stimulated areas that had long forgot what it had felt like to feel the natural environment on it._

"_NOOOOOOOOOO!" his scream had been anguished and guttural in the same instance. His left hand had grasped the side of the cheap tin basin so tightly that his knuckles reddened whilst his right hand continued to run over the side of his face, his finger tips feverishly searching for the reassuringly cold steel that hid his scars from the world. It had to be there, it simply had to be … opening his eyes once again the young albino fervently sought for something that he could recognise. His weak legs collapsed beneath him, dropping him onto the floor and at the mercy of his feverish intent. "No …" he had repeated again and again, his volume, and distress increasing as sharp finger nails and shaking hands had clawed over his face and skull. Tears of blood and sweat had ran down the side of his head, to trickle onto his legs and the emotionless grey floor, as he raked his fingers deeper and deeper into his flesh. Again the desperate thought had ran through his head. It had to be there … Somewhere …. It simply had to be…_

"_VINCENT!" Curled at the base of the sink, with his head in his hands lay their bro. His legs lay spread eagled across the grey concrete, his shaking upper torso leaning against the support of the mockingly shiny sink. The metal reflecting the droplets of blood that had been flicked everywhere. His entire being shook violently as his hands tried to find the metal plate that had become a part of his everyday life. A part of his face. "VINCENT!" _

_There had been something about the way that Throttle had called to him that made him pause in his desperate search. Through the blood and the fear he had looked up from behind bloodied, shaking limbs to see his bro's standing there. His lower jaw trembled as he observed the shock and surprise exhibited at seeing him like this. Seeing him naked. Hideously malformed. Ugly. The look on Modo's face had been by far the worse, through ragged breaths he had looked from his larger brother's face to Throttle's only to see the same shock behind the mirrored glass. His face pulled into a tight grimace as his eyes caught sight and focussed on the bleeding, cracked flesh in the lens of the glass. "Nnnnnoooo…." Turning away from their horrified faces his frenzied attack had resumed …_

"_Vincent …" the call made him claw harder, it would be there. "Vinnie …" he had buried his head away from their voices, before two firm hands had wrapped around wrists and tried to pull his limbs back._

"_LET GO OF ME!"_

_The fight between leader and rebel had been a fierce tug of war that had ended with Vinnie's arm tearing through the small metal stud in his right ear, falling backwards Modo intervened. His cold metal arm had caught the flailing arm as it tried to resume its attempt at irradicating all traces of the old war wound. "Shhh …" It hadn't mattered how hard he had battled against Modo gentle, but forceful strength, he couldn't get his right arm back. "Bro …" Lifted, shaking from the floor had only served to anger him all the more, furious yet fearful tears finally dropping down his cheeks. The saltwater had got lost in the river of blood that cascaded down the right hand side of his face. The additional pain lost in a well of negative emotions he so rarely showed. Standing, and still shaking he tugged against the metallic grasp, his free arm no longer clawing at his face but focussed on getting back his freedom, his distress temporarily shifting targets with each furiously aimed yet weak punch that had pounded into the large grey mouse's metal breastplate . "Let go … Let me go … LET GO!" _

_And just like that it had been over. He hadn't noticed Throttle disappear into the small kitchenette, his worry at his friend's visible distress sufficient to warrant a physical intervention of a different kind. With Modo holding him the tan mouse had returned to the room with a plastic cup, and between the two of them they had managed to get him to drink its contents. Vinnie had found it difficult to be angry, terrified and upset with a quarter of Martian Chloroform inside him but he had tried. For about thirty seconds afterwards he had fought with the interfering hands that had wiped away the blood that dripped down from his exposed brow and seeped over his cheekbone, had cursed and sobbed at the gentle voices that whispered their apologies for being so forceful. _

"_Bro, it's okay … it's okay now …" he had heard as his body sagged under the metal arm that held it in place. His eyes had fluttered stubbornly open one final time to capture the blurred image of concern and mutual fear that Throttle and Modo had wordlessly shared before carrying him back through to his room in the barrel of the ship._

_They had never, in all of their years together, seen Vinnie react so violently to an injury, and it had been that that had scared them. _

--

With its high arcing ceiling and reflective lights to cast long protective shadows over the room it was easy to miss the large grey mouse that also occupied the room. The room itself was sparsely decorated; upon his request Modo had removed as many reflective surfaces from the room as was humanly possible. That had meant the removal of the pictures that had hung on the wall, the small mirror, the alarm clock, even the glass of water that he had been brought upon waking on that terrifying day had been rejected. Now, in order to hide from the dull reflective metal tiles that comprised the walls, the room had been plunged into a permanent darkness that was seldom altered.

"It's just Charley-ma' am." sitting in the corner of the sterile metal room Modo was almost lost to the shadows that shrouded everything. If the room was lit then it would be a bright and pleasant place to be.

"She was starin'" a small voice whispered.

"Are you hungry yet?"

"No."

Pausing Modo fell silent once again, his single red eye glowing softly in the darkness. From his point in the room he studied Vinnie. He looked so small and lost; lying on the large metal bed in a foetal position, his right arm wrapped around the pillow he hugged to his chest and marked face, obscuring the wounds old and new from view. He watched his visible glassy left eye, blink, and saw the tiny tear streak down over the bridge of his nose to disappear into his folded arms and hidden snout. A broken bone would have brought an unyielding holy Hell down upon Limburger and his goons, but even tales of daily, purposefully violent escapades into the Plutarkian stronghold couldn't bring Vincent back to the surface. A broken spirit it seemed would take something more than lumps of breeze block and tales of war. And so for the past three days Modo and Throttle had stayed in keeping a careful eye on the baby of the trio. At least when he had been feverish and ill they had been able to make him smile during his lucid moments.

"Are you hungry?" the small voice snapped him out of his quiet thoughts.

"A little, it can wait Bro."

"Go, I want to take a nap."

"Charley-ma'am," Modo caught up with the stunned girl a little further up the ship's corridor. His eyes held the apology that Vincent couldn't voice.

"He looked …" she paused and shook her head, "It didn't look that bad. How could he …" biting down onto her lip to stifle the tiny sob that wanted to come forth.

"I don't know." Drawing her into a gentle embrace he whispered through her hair, his metallic arm gently squeezing her shoulder. "Give him some time Charley-ma'am." Releasing her he offered her the crook of his arm so that he could escort her to lunch. "Maybe he'll feel like company after lunch?" Not a fan of false hope Modo still offered her the most reassuring smile he could muster.

"After lunch?"

"If he's awake."

She smiled softly, "Yea, after lunch."

----

Thank you to the reviewers - I really appreciate it. Hope you like this part ...  
Heir


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